Long story short, my dad is a substance abuser. Anything he can get his hands on really. Pills are his favorite, he drinks a lot, and he talks about heroin as if it were candy you'd buy from the store, aka he sees it as something that's no big deal.
We both have health issues, therefore we both have pain medication prescriptions. For the past two years, my dad has talked me into giving him most of my bottle because he had already gone through his, then I would be out and he would have to give me some of his when he got his refill, then he would run out and so on, and the cycle would continue.
I was his enabler, I'm not proud of it but I'll admit it. What do you do when your dad, the only person you felt like you had in your life, when he is screaming at 4 in the morning and you have the little orange bottle in your hands that would help him? You help him, that's what.
About a year and a half ago, he met his girlfriend, Lenny. Everything was downhill after he met her. Again, long story short, he started doing things I had never seen him do. He would get drunk, violently drunk. A few times there would be broken glass after a fight they just had. Then Lenny started putting all these thoughts in his head, and then came the needles and the "tea."
My dad starting shooting up his, and my, pain medication. I cried the first time I saw him do it, but at the time I trusted my daddy with my life, and he calmed me down and explained how much this was helping. I could tell you the entire process that he would do, I've seen him shoot up so many times now that I couldn't even tell you how many. He had me so convinced too, that one awful day where he was screaming and sobbing, he talked me into giving him his shot. I'm not proud of it, but I was an enabler. I just wanted my daddy to be comfortable and happy.
It was around this time that Lenny was caught stealing my medicine. My meds had disappeared several times now over the past few months, and I sure didn't take them all, I barely took my own script. My dad had no reason to steal them, all he had to do was ask and I would give. Lenny was the only one that could've taken them, but she always denied it, and we never caught her in the act, until we finally did.
The first time, she stole 40 pills from me. The second time, she stole 60. Then she stole 15. I would also notice that one or two would be missing from my bottle, and later she admitted to stealing a couple just whenever she felt she needed them. Please keep in mind, Lenny has 0 health issues that would require pain medication. She was a pill seeker, something I knew from the very beginning, but to this day my dad swears she is the love of his life.
It was around this time that they started ordering poppies, crushed them up, and made what they called "pain tea." Again, I could tell you the whole process of how to make the tea, because my dad had me make it for them several times. My dad also had me drink the tea for several days once so he could just "have my pills for that day." All it took for me was one mouthful, and I was good for the entire day.
Keep in mind, I was only about 100 lbs. Lenny was around 105 lbs, yet she would drink an entire cup at a time. It would knock them back on their butts, their eyes would be rolling back into their heads every time they blinked, they couldn't even sit up, so on.. My dad drank two cups at a time. This didn't click with me that he was genuinely trying to get a high from the tea, all I saw was my poor dad trying to help the pain go away. He had me so convinced.
Eventually, we caught Lenny in the act. She had taken two of my pills and was in the bathroom loading up a needle. My dad broke the door down and caught her standing there, a deer in headlights, with a needle in her hand. He kicked her out for real that day.
Some elaboration, my dad had kicked Lenny out several times now at this point. They would get into arguments about pills and tea, and he would blame her for missing pills, and he would kick her out. She was never gone for more than a day, and then she'd be back and I'd have to pretend Lenny had done nothing wrong, and things were to continue on as they had.
He kicked her out the day he caught her with the needle, and we didn't see her for about 6-7 months. I thought she was gone for real this time, but it didn't click that there was a reason my dad still texted her every day. It wasn't over for him, he wasn't ready to let go. Even while she was in a different state, living with several different guys, it didn't matter to my dad because he knew she'd be back.
It's also sad because even though she was gone, the damage had been done. Long gone was the daddy that had raised me alone, that had been my best friend. The dad that had any self control was gone, replaced with a stranger. I can't tell you how many days I would wake up in the middle of the night, a horrible sinking feeling in my gut, only to find my dad limp on the ground, or half bent into a trash can. I can't tell you how many times I've found him like that and immediately thought he was dead. It was traumatizing.
He brought Lenny back in June, and I rushed out of my house before she got there. I never wanted to see her again, it had started to click with me that something was horribly wrong with my dad at this point, and without Lenny I may have been able to drag him out of it. Lenny began a new era for my dad, one that I don't think he'll be coming back from.
Since I have moved out, I have been cussed out by my dad for refusing to give him pills, I have been blamed, and my private things in my room have all been gone through and read. They're currently in the process of boxing up my room so they can use it as a "greenhouse," whatever that means. It is so violating knowing that your clothes are being picked through, your journals being read, so on. There was an SD card I had on my nightstand, that had pictures of my little cousins when they were babies. It was so important to me, and in my rush to get away I didn't grab it. I'll never see that SD card again.
I knew exactly where things were in my room, but they wouldn't even have the decency to tell me ahead of time to come get my things. They want to go through them themselves, looking for what I don't know.
My dad is going to end up dead, if he follows this path. Probably before the end of the year. Last time I saw him, his skin was splotchy, which it's never been before. Is that a sign that he is using now?
My therapist suggested I call the police and give them an anonymous tip. Would that be a good idea? What would you suggest? Is he too far gone?
If you read all of this, so much love to you. I didn't mean to make it so long, but I don't think I've ever written everything out anywhere. All the little details are so crucial to my dad's spiral, and I felt they were important to add.
I love him so much, even though he is no longer the dad I remember, he is still my dad. If he is already using heroin it might already be too late, but if not then there still might be a chance. If I don't do something, he will die. I will have to carry that burden for the rest of my life, knowing I could've done something but didn't.
Thank you for your time.
We both have health issues, therefore we both have pain medication prescriptions. For the past two years, my dad has talked me into giving him most of my bottle because he had already gone through his, then I would be out and he would have to give me some of his when he got his refill, then he would run out and so on, and the cycle would continue.
I was his enabler, I'm not proud of it but I'll admit it. What do you do when your dad, the only person you felt like you had in your life, when he is screaming at 4 in the morning and you have the little orange bottle in your hands that would help him? You help him, that's what.
About a year and a half ago, he met his girlfriend, Lenny. Everything was downhill after he met her. Again, long story short, he started doing things I had never seen him do. He would get drunk, violently drunk. A few times there would be broken glass after a fight they just had. Then Lenny started putting all these thoughts in his head, and then came the needles and the "tea."
My dad starting shooting up his, and my, pain medication. I cried the first time I saw him do it, but at the time I trusted my daddy with my life, and he calmed me down and explained how much this was helping. I could tell you the entire process that he would do, I've seen him shoot up so many times now that I couldn't even tell you how many. He had me so convinced too, that one awful day where he was screaming and sobbing, he talked me into giving him his shot. I'm not proud of it, but I was an enabler. I just wanted my daddy to be comfortable and happy.
It was around this time that Lenny was caught stealing my medicine. My meds had disappeared several times now over the past few months, and I sure didn't take them all, I barely took my own script. My dad had no reason to steal them, all he had to do was ask and I would give. Lenny was the only one that could've taken them, but she always denied it, and we never caught her in the act, until we finally did.
The first time, she stole 40 pills from me. The second time, she stole 60. Then she stole 15. I would also notice that one or two would be missing from my bottle, and later she admitted to stealing a couple just whenever she felt she needed them. Please keep in mind, Lenny has 0 health issues that would require pain medication. She was a pill seeker, something I knew from the very beginning, but to this day my dad swears she is the love of his life.
It was around this time that they started ordering poppies, crushed them up, and made what they called "pain tea." Again, I could tell you the whole process of how to make the tea, because my dad had me make it for them several times. My dad also had me drink the tea for several days once so he could just "have my pills for that day." All it took for me was one mouthful, and I was good for the entire day.
Keep in mind, I was only about 100 lbs. Lenny was around 105 lbs, yet she would drink an entire cup at a time. It would knock them back on their butts, their eyes would be rolling back into their heads every time they blinked, they couldn't even sit up, so on.. My dad drank two cups at a time. This didn't click with me that he was genuinely trying to get a high from the tea, all I saw was my poor dad trying to help the pain go away. He had me so convinced.
Eventually, we caught Lenny in the act. She had taken two of my pills and was in the bathroom loading up a needle. My dad broke the door down and caught her standing there, a deer in headlights, with a needle in her hand. He kicked her out for real that day.
Some elaboration, my dad had kicked Lenny out several times now at this point. They would get into arguments about pills and tea, and he would blame her for missing pills, and he would kick her out. She was never gone for more than a day, and then she'd be back and I'd have to pretend Lenny had done nothing wrong, and things were to continue on as they had.
He kicked her out the day he caught her with the needle, and we didn't see her for about 6-7 months. I thought she was gone for real this time, but it didn't click that there was a reason my dad still texted her every day. It wasn't over for him, he wasn't ready to let go. Even while she was in a different state, living with several different guys, it didn't matter to my dad because he knew she'd be back.
It's also sad because even though she was gone, the damage had been done. Long gone was the daddy that had raised me alone, that had been my best friend. The dad that had any self control was gone, replaced with a stranger. I can't tell you how many days I would wake up in the middle of the night, a horrible sinking feeling in my gut, only to find my dad limp on the ground, or half bent into a trash can. I can't tell you how many times I've found him like that and immediately thought he was dead. It was traumatizing.
He brought Lenny back in June, and I rushed out of my house before she got there. I never wanted to see her again, it had started to click with me that something was horribly wrong with my dad at this point, and without Lenny I may have been able to drag him out of it. Lenny began a new era for my dad, one that I don't think he'll be coming back from.
Since I have moved out, I have been cussed out by my dad for refusing to give him pills, I have been blamed, and my private things in my room have all been gone through and read. They're currently in the process of boxing up my room so they can use it as a "greenhouse," whatever that means. It is so violating knowing that your clothes are being picked through, your journals being read, so on. There was an SD card I had on my nightstand, that had pictures of my little cousins when they were babies. It was so important to me, and in my rush to get away I didn't grab it. I'll never see that SD card again.
I knew exactly where things were in my room, but they wouldn't even have the decency to tell me ahead of time to come get my things. They want to go through them themselves, looking for what I don't know.
My dad is going to end up dead, if he follows this path. Probably before the end of the year. Last time I saw him, his skin was splotchy, which it's never been before. Is that a sign that he is using now?
My therapist suggested I call the police and give them an anonymous tip. Would that be a good idea? What would you suggest? Is he too far gone?
If you read all of this, so much love to you. I didn't mean to make it so long, but I don't think I've ever written everything out anywhere. All the little details are so crucial to my dad's spiral, and I felt they were important to add.
I love him so much, even though he is no longer the dad I remember, he is still my dad. If he is already using heroin it might already be too late, but if not then there still might be a chance. If I don't do something, he will die. I will have to carry that burden for the rest of my life, knowing I could've done something but didn't.
Thank you for your time.
